


All At Once

by peacefrog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a weird, dorky little guy. Dean Winchester has always been in love with him, and all his imperfections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it happened, because for Dean, it seems as if it’s always been happening. Suddenly, all at once, he realizes he has always been in love with Castiel. Son of a _bitch_.

He has a coffee stain on his bathrobe and his hair is a mess and he missed a spot shaving on his chin and he’s humming into his coffee mug as he reads the morning paper. He’s a mess, in every sense of the word. He has bad breath in the morning and even now his ties are always slightly crooked. He always leaves his dirty coffee mug on the counter instead of placing it in the sink like Dean has asked him to. He uses all the hot water and he leaves discarded articles of clothing all over the bunker. And he makes weird noises when he sleeps, not that Dean has, on more than one occasion recently, stood in the threshold of his bedroom watching him or anything. That would just be creepy.

He has this weird little habit of picking all the toppings off his pizza and eating them only after he’s finished the rest of it. Seriously, who does that? He’s a better shot than Dean and it drives him crazy because just a few short years ago he didn’t even know how to use a gun properly. He insists on buying these fruity smelling candles and lighting them all over the bunker. Dean’s room smells like lemon meringue pie, and okay he really loves the way it smells but that’s totally not the point. What sort of man lights scented candles in another man’s room without permission first? And he always leaves the cap off the toothpaste in the morning. It’s really starting to become a problem.

His favorite TV show is The Golden Girls, and he hums along to the theme song every time he watches. He laughs so loud that Dean can hear him clear across the other side of the bunker. He is so fucking weird. But he also watches things like Cosmos, and smiles reverently at the television. He sighs and says, “I know that place,” and he chuckles to himself when they talk of the possibility of life on other planets.

Dean asked him one night if it was true, if there were other places out there like Earth, and Cas just smiled, knowingly, and started rattling off some complicated equation. After that, Dean sort of zoned out staring at his lips and if he ever did give an answer, Dean certainly didn’t hear it. Because the equation was so boring of course, not because he was thinking of kissing his lips. No. It was not that. It was the math which Dean totally hates and he does not think about kissing Cas all the time. That would be even creepier than watching him sleep at night, which he also does not do.

There’s definitely something wrong with him. He chews on pen caps and he’s always tapping his foot rhythmically as he reads. And he’s always reading something, even if Metatron did sort of spoil most of the novels in existence for him. He said it doesn’t matter, a story without context isn’t much of a story at all, and even if he does know the ending, the journey getting there is still just as meaningful. Sometimes he reads aloud to Dean when he finds particularly profound passages in all his favorite books. Dean likes it when he reads him Vonnegut, even if he does know half his books by heart at this point himself. The journey Cas’ voice takes him on makes those words somehow even more meaningful.

Cas is a horrible cook, particularly when it comes to eggs. They’re always overcooked and he never seasons them correctly. Always too much or too little. The dude is a genius when it comes to astrophysics and quantum mechanics, but he does not know how to use a salt shaker. And half the time he burns the bacon, and he never remembers to brew more coffee when he drinks the last cup.

Dean doesn’t know what’s happening to him, because he finds suddenly that he doesn’t even care anymore. The quirks, the strange little habits, the smells, the messes. Everything this fallen angel, this man, is and has become, has become a part of him as well. And okay, so he hasn’t exactly told him yet, hasn’t worked up the nerve to say the words, hasn’t dared try to kiss him. He’s working on it. He almost has, a half dozen times at night, when he was totally not watching him sleep because that would just be weird. But as their bare feet brush against one another beneath the kitchen table, their eyes meeting over their mugs, he thinks maybe today. Maybe today will be the day he finally tells him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester just told Castiel that he loves him — that he is in love with him — and he’s not going to survive to see another day if he doesn’t say something else other than “I know”.

The reason he finally ends up blurting it out is the dumbest thing really. They’re still sitting at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast, and Cas has ketchup smeared on his cheek. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does he certainly doesn’t care. He’s too busy stuffing his face and reading the morning paper. He really is the weirdest guy Dean has ever met. He puts ketchup on his bacon and he puts way too much cream in his coffee. But he’s sitting there, lost in reading the morning paper, devouring every sentence of every page — he even reads the advertisements, sometimes aloud — with this giant smear of ketchup on his cheek and Dean suddenly feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest when it happens.

“I love you.” The words come out so fast he can’t even be certain he actually said them. When Cas doesn’t even bother looking up from his paper, he’s pretty sure the words never made it past his lips.

But then Cas just simply says, “I know,” before taking another sip of his coffee like Dean didn’t just say three words to him he’s never said to anyone in that order, aside from his mother or the memory of her in Heaven.

“You…you know?” Dean is dumbfounded. What does he mean he knows?

“Yes.” He takes another sip of his coffee, eyes still fixed on the paper.

“How do you….know?” At this point, Dean’s pretty certain it’s taking all of his willpower to not crawl under the table in shame.

“Dean, I used to be an angel. I have always been able to read you. I know.” Finally he sits his coffee mug down, looking up from the paper as a small smile starts tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know I don’t mean like…the way I love Sam? It’s—”

“I know,” Cas cuts him off, now staring at him with all that angelic intensity that never left him, even when the last of his stolen grace fizzled out.

“Will you stop saying that?” Dean hangs his head in shame. This isn’t exactly going how he planned it. Well, he hadn’t planned this at all. He never thought he would work up the nerve to say those words. He’s pretty sure he’s going to die.

“Dean, I’ve known for a long time, okay. A long time. I just…figured you would tell me when you were ready to.”

“And…?” He. Wants. To. Die. Dean Winchester just told Castiel that he loves him — that he is in love with him — and he’s not going to survive to see another day if he doesn’t say something else other than “I know”.

“And…I love you too,” he says, the faint smile growing bigger as he does. “Is that okay?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He finds that he actually can’t. He just sits there staring at the ketchup smeared on Cas’ cheek. He wants to brush it away but he stops himself, in that moment realizing that this ridiculous mess of a man is exactly who he wants him to be. He doesn’t want a Cas that doesn’t leave ketchup smeared on his cheek, or one who always brushes his hair, or one who doesn’t steal his favorite t-shirts only to return them unwashed and smelling of the garden out back.

He wants every single part of him. He wants this weird, dorky little guy more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. So he doesn’t wipe the ketchup from his cheek. Instead he stands and walks to the other side of the table. He sits down next to him, as Cas turns his body so they are mere inches apart. They don’t speak, instead choosing to stare at each other for so long Dean almost forgets what he intended to do when he got up in the first place.

Finally, coming back to himself, coming back to the moment, he cups Cas’ face in his hands. His thumb lands right in the ketchup on his cheek, and as he leans in to kiss him, he realizes it was always meant to be this way. This moment wasn’t meant to be perfect or seductive or any of that cheesy bullshit that you see in the movies. It was always meant to be a mess, a ketchup stain on your cheek, a plethora of stains on your bathrobe. Cas tastes like coffee with too much cream, and normally Dean would hate that but it’s Cas, and it feels so right that he moans into his mouth, seeking more of it with his tongue.


End file.
